


this dance between us

by qbrujas



Series: i learn myself in you [1]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Soft Kisses, just quiet warm softness in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26376526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qbrujas/pseuds/qbrujas
Summary: Nate Sewell and these quiet moments with him would be worth any risk, any loss. Anything.
Relationships: Female Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell
Series: i learn myself in you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008429
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	this dance between us

It never stops, this dance between them.

The slow smiles and playful comments and lingering touches now give way to kisses and caresses but it never, ever stops; this circling each other, growing closer and pulling away, just for a moment—slow, teasing, charging the air with a low hum of electricity in a steady crescendo of anticipation.

It's a careful choreography he has led and she has fallen into with ease. Now they both move in rhythm to music that seems to exist only for them, the beat steadily growing faster, and neither of them can stop smiling.

(Morgan scoffs at the complexity of their dance, and even Farah loses track of all the steps, though that doesn't keep her from commenting on it.)

It’s subtle and delicate, but barely masking how deep the current beneath runs.

The depth of feeling in his dark eyes and the shiver that goes through her are the only things that betray them when he takes her hand in his and presses his lips to the back of her fingers. There is something in the gesture that is so essentially _Nate_ —something in the look he gives her, eyes glimmering with an array of feelings too deep and complex for words, but he doesn't need them, hasn't needed them for a while.

(Doesn't mean he doesn't use them, to devastating effect, when the situation calls for it.)

Something in the way he makes that lightest of touches feel far more intimate than it logically should, his breath warm on her skin and her every nerve firing in anticipation.

Something in the way his lips curve as they press against her skin, and another shiver runs through her because she _knows_ that smile.

She watches him, stays very still, electricity vibrating through her body and a matching smile on her lips. This is all part of their dance, and it won't do to rush any of it.

Soon after, he wanders, lips ghosting over the scar on her wrist—he lingers there again, just a moment, a single kiss that lasts longer than the others. But he moves on almost as quickly, lacing his fingers with hers as he continues upwards.

His other hand holds her at the waist, fingers tracing slow circles on the exposed skin where her top has lifted slightly. She leans back on the couch, eyes half-lidded but still watching him, always watching him, as he continues to trail soft kisses up the inside of her forearm.

A sudden swell of tenderness rises in her; happiness, pure happiness at being with him like this in the middle of the whirlwind that has become her life. Treaties and bounties and rogues and she risks her life almost daily and yet she has this, _this_. Nate Sewell and these quiet moments with him would be worth any risk, any loss. Anything.

The pull she feels towards him is magnetic and she runs a hand through the waves of his hair (it has grown longer since they met; she’s found she likes it like this), smiles at him and he looks up, questioning, affectionate. She shakes her head and whispers a quiet _nothing_ , her smile and her heart both growing larger at the sight of him, beautiful and loving and _here_. He smiles too, wide and delighted and unrestrained, and for that moment she forgets how to breathe.

He blinks, slowly, and resumes the path of his kisses, smiling still. They trail higher up her arm, and she closes her eyes and loses herself to the feeling of lips on skin, warm breath, Nate, Nate, _Nate_.

He reaches her shoulder and she shivers again, his kisses becoming more purposeful, less fluttering as he moves the straps of her top to the side to continue the uninterrupted path.

His lips barely touch her neck—he never, ever lingers there, and she has never asked, much as she would want him to—but she has no time to think on it as he moves to kiss her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.

He stops once he reaches her lips, his own almost grazing them, breaths mingling together, eyes sparkling and that smile, that smile still on his face.

This close, she can't resist him—wouldn’t even bother trying—and he knows it, he knows her too well. She's smiling too, all too happy to let herself be led here.

_Unfair_ , she breathes out, half-laughing, and leans forward to kiss him before he can say any smooth words back to her. She can feel his grin widen all the same, only a second before he too sinks into the kiss.

She has kissed him countless times by now. And yet, every time, that first moment when their lips meet feels like a shock of energy, like something falling into place and like it's a flaw in the universe's design that she isn't _always_ kissing him.

Nate's kisses are consuming, earth-shattering, nothing else left in the world but the way his lips taste against hers and the sweet certainty that nothing else exists for him, either.


End file.
